Pathology results (again!)

Today I went to see my breast surgeon, Miss L_____, for my post-op pathology results. They sent all the tissue they removed on 3 December to the lab, and it's great news: there was no evidence of disease in any of it. So I'm once again officially cancer-free and on the road to recovery. It felt quite emotional actually, and a huge relief. How great to get that news just in time for Christmas and the end of the year.

My surgery went really well. Here's a little update on it all.

Marked up with sharpies for surgery

So I went in on 3 December and was put under anaesthetic around midday, and woke up around 3pm. I had far fewer tubes and wires than last time, just a cannula in the inside of my left elbow for the anaesthetic and pain relief, and two drains coming out of either side of my torso just underneath where my breasts had been, held in place with stitches. I was quite woozy from the anaesthetic but felt great, and so relieved to have them removed at last. I have felt as though I had two ticking time bombs on my chest for the last few months! I managed some dinner on the ward and they let Tanai stay with me until quite late. The nurses were all totally wonderful and checked my blood pressure and temperature regularly through the night. I had my own room but still didn't manage to get any sleep! I think the adrenaline was pumping and I actually felt quite nervous so my body kept waking me back up every time I dozed off. Every time I wanted to go to the toilet I had to carry these two drain bottles with me, and it was all quite awkward, but I managed it.

Very woozy post-surgery dinner

One of my drains on the floor by my bed, draining from my body.

The next morning I was visited by various people, including the two surgeons who had removed my breasts. I hadn't realised but there was one surgeon on either side! I am quite intrigued as to which side was done by my amazing surgeon and which by her registrar, but I guess I'll never know. Both sides look great, really neat and tidy, so both of them did a fantastic job. I have no stitches either: they used glue. And I have been feeling remarkably pain-free, I've only taken a few paracetamol in the couple of weeks since my surgery. A nurse removed my drains under the supervision of a more senior nurse, watched by a student nurse. I had some lunch and then I was discharged. Home less than 24 hours after waking up from surgery, how incredible.

Just before my drains were removed. The boobless wonder!

Since then I have been mainly resting on the sofa, trying to do little walks each day and doing my physio exercises a few times a day. My range of motion is not bad, but I can't lift my arms too high, and I'm not supposed to be lifting anything heavier than a small glass of water. Tanai couldn't be away from work too long (this is my third surgery of the year after all!) so I've had a roster of amazing friends coming over to make me lunch each day, which has been lovely. I've started getting back into my studying, in anticipation of all the essays I have to complete next year, and I've been listening to lots of podcasts. I have bought a giant U-shaped pregnancy pillow which is really helping me to sleep well. And we are being very careful about infection risk, washing bedding, towels and PJs every day.

 The amazing pillow

One of the inevitabilities after surgery is a seroma. This is a gathering of fluid near the surgery site, which the drains would have drained away. Over the last couple of weeks I developed two seroma, right where my breasts had been. They looked like cute little a/b-cup boobs! But they were sloshy and uncomfortable, so when I saw my surgeon today she drained the liquid out of them, leaving me flat again. There was 90ml in the right one, and 150ml in the left one! Apparently I will probably need to go in a couple more times before my body learns to reabsorb the liquid itself. I feel much better now and it was quite emotional saying goodbye to Miss L_____. She was the one back in February 2017 who first told me I had breast cancer. What a rollercoaster it's been since then. And today we said goodbye, shook hands, and with a little bit of luck, that's the last of it.

Of course I still have various follow-up appointments, including one in January with my ovarian oncologist, but officially I'm now part of the 'open access follow-up' programme, which means I have to just contact them if anything feels strange and they'll see me. Given that there is very little left in my body for the cancer to grow in, I'm hoping that I don't have to go back in.

It really feels like a huge milestone, the end of a particularly challenging chapter of my life, and the beginning of a new one. I am marking this change in a number of other ways. We have given notice on our flat here in Clerkenwell, and we will move out in March. It's been lovely living here for 3 years and I was so incredibly lucky to live close to St Bartholomew's Hospital, one of the best cancer hospitals in the country, for my treatment. It's also been a gorgeous, sun-filled space to recover and convalesce. But for various reasons we've decided to move in the new year, partly to get somewhere cheaper and with more space, and partly to move out of central London and to somewhere a bit more 'local' and leafy. It's time to move on.

As you know, I continued to work all through my treatment, even through both my bouts of chemo, which, looking back on it all, was incredible. It was good for my mental health at first, but this year my mental health took quite a battering, and unfortunately work was contributing to a lot of that stress and negativity. So I took the astonishing decision to quit my job and go freelance! Perhaps a little rash, but cancer definitely makes you realise how important it is to feel happy and fulfilled in your career, especially given how much time we spend at work. I have been giving myself a little rest for the last few weeks, but in January I will start up with my own consultancy. I'm just getting my website ready now. And fingers crossed I will quickly find some paying work and make a go of it. I'm very excited about this development and I'm confident it will work out well. I've always wanted to be my own boss.

And finally, perhaps trivially (although it doesn't feel that trivial), I have realised that I will need a whole new wardrobe, and a whole new look. My body shape is completely different now. I am slender and flat on top, and due to my ovarian cancer surgery, I have permanent swelling in my lower torso, so all the lovely fitted 50s-style frocks I used to rock, just won't look right any more. I'm actually really enjoying wearing old t-shirts that my breasts used to distort, and I've even picked up a pair of Whistles trousers from a charity shop which I love. I've not owned a pair of trousers for years! I'm going to operate a 'one in, one out' policy, and only purchase new clothes when I've raised enough money from selling my old ones. I have so many lovely frocks, so I plan to ebay them all in the new year. I will also donate some of the money to Breast Cancer Now, who have been so amazing during my treatment.

Flattie with fish and chips

So there we go! The enormity of it all hasn't quite sunk in yet. But I'm looking forward to a relaxed Christmas up north and a very low-key new year. Bring on 2020 and all the regeneration it promises!

Pathology results and a plan

Bit of an update this one, brace yourselves. Last week I saw someone from my surgeon's team at the Royal London Hospital for my post-op pathology results (my surgeon was on holiday so I saw someone new). I received great news, they didn't find anything dodgy in any of the organs, glands and other stuff they removed during my major surgery on 2 April. So the tubo-ovarian cancer that they found was limited to just a 1.7mm sized tumour in only one of my fallopian tubes, which they had already removed at the end of February. This is good news on a number of levels. It means they got it all, so there's none left to remove or nuke, but the surgery was not in vain either. As I carry the BRCA1 mutation, this increases the likelihood of it coming back. But now they've removed pretty much everything it could possibly come back in, so I'm giving myself the best possible chance of remaining cancer-free after all of this and getting on with my life. The surgeon said that in their MDM (Multi-Disciplinary Meeting) they had argued about whether or not I even needed to have chemotherapy! Medicine is not an exact science, they just have to go on studies of people with similar cancer situations to mine; their own experience; and a bit of instinct. And as they were completely divided as a group, patient opinion also forms a part of it. Tanai and I have been reading studies about ovarian cancer, and in instances where the cancer was contained as mine was, patients who have the complete surgery I had, followed by a course of chemotherapy, have the best outcomes. For me it's a no-brainer -- if I didn't have chemo and it came back in the future, I would never forgive myself for not giving myself the best possible chance. So we opted 'yes' for chemo.

So yesterday we went to the general oncology department at Bart's for my first appointment there. The team leader is a woman called Dr M_____ who was lovely and clearly was one of the people in the MDM who voted 'for' chemo, so she was pleased with my decision. However, the other good news is that they are not going to give me two different drugs as they originally planned, they are only going to give me one drug, called Carboplatin, and hair loss is not one of the common side effects of this! I'm so pleased I will get to keep my hair this time. And I should tolerate it pretty well as it's not as harsh as the chemo drugs I had for breast cancer, so I should find it less horrid. This has made me feel so much better about the next few months, knowing that I have every hope of tolerating the drug and recovering afterwards. So my first chemo is on 16 May, then they will be every 3 weeks for 6 rounds, with my final infusion on 29 August, all being well. The routine will be that I get my bloods done the week before, see the oncologist on the Wednesday and if all is well I'll have my chemo on the Thursday each time. I got my bloods done this morning for the first round so I'm all set to go.

Interestingly, the oncologist I saw yesterday was Dr H____, and he was actually the registrar who agreed to refer me for the BRCA gene test in the first place, after my oncology team had refused me 3 times! He must have been stepping in for someone or something, as I have not seen him since then. It was great to see him again and get the chance to thank him. He was a bit taken aback when I said 'Ah we've met before! I have to thank you, I think you saved my life!'. Bless him, he's quite young and I think the only reason he referred me was because he was intimidated by me! But it has had a good outcome, and my words may perhaps alter his decision-making in future, which could help save someone else's life, who knows. I do think it's important to give feedback to my medical team where I can. Like the surgeon said, medicine is not an exact science, so if they can have the benefit of real life experience, it can help them in their decision-making.

So, other clinic appointments I have had over the last few weeks. I went to the lymphodema clinic again for a follow-up. I was looking forward to this visit, as I was only being treated for my right arm last time (due to 2 lymph nodes being removed from my right armpit during my breast surgery), but now that I've had all my pelvic lymph nodes removed, and my para-aortic lymph nodes, I wanted to ask questions about what other lymphodema risks I have, and what preventative measures I could take to minimise the risk of problems. Unfortunately the regular nurse had left, and the guy covering her position had no idea about anything! What a wasted visit. They have booked me for another appointment in 3 months' time, and ordered me some compression stockings in the meantime, but I was pretty irritated by this!

I also saw a member of the Cancer Psychology team, for an appointment which had been scheduled to discuss my upcoming preventative mastectomy. Rather bizarrely, if you wish to have a mastectomy without reconstruction, they insist that you get 'signed off' by a psychologist first (there is no equivalent process for women who wish to have reconstructive surgery). However, upon learning about my 'developments' we ended up talking about all sorts, and we have agreed to a couple more sessions before she'll sign me off for the mastectomy surgery. It was a good chat, and she gave me some more useful analogies to think about. One was about allowing myself to feel emotional. I mentioned that I am definitely feeling more emotional this time round (I have 'leaky eyes'!), and that I'm actually okay with this, as I'm finding crying to be a welcome release (I definitely don't think I cried enough the first time round!). She said to imagine I was in a swimming pool and the 'negative' emotions were like an inflatable ball I was trying to hold under the water. If you try to keep the ball under the water, you find that you're using all your energy to keep it there, and you have no time or energy to do other things, such as enjoy being in the water! Whereas if you simply let the ball float, and push it away from time to time, you'll be able to splash about and enjoy yourself, and when the ball comes back again you can just push it away and get on with having fun. I really liked this visual metaphor, and I think that's how I feel about my emotions this time around.

I've also been seeing the nurse at my GP every other day, and she's been re-packing and re-dressing the small wound at the bottom end of my scar. She's very pleased with how this is progressing, she says it's getting smaller and looking very clean, so that's good.

Generally in myself I'm feeling stronger and like I have more energy. I can just about put my own shoes and socks on now, which is useful! And I am starting to do little walks on my own and some gentle exercise. I'm sleeping well and feeling less pain. I even got out to the theatre last night, which was a huge achievement! We went to watch the London Marathon near Blackfriar's Bridge last weekend, as it's just a short walk from our flat, and I stood there for over an hour watching the runners. I felt very emotional seeing everyone running for cancer charities that have helped me, and I'm inspired to do something similar once I am well again, to raise some money for Bart's Hospital, which has saved my life twice! We shall see what I come up with.

Thanks for persevering with this long update. Feeling good, on the right track, let the chemo begin!

Test results and other stuff

Following my last post about Scanxiety, you'll be pleased to know that my test results came back all clear. I had a little cry when my Oncologist told us, as I really had feared the worst. I feel as though I've been given a second chance, and I want to make sure I make it worth it!

Yesterday I had my first infusion of Zometa, or Zolodronic Acid. I have to have this every 6 months for 3 years. It helps protect my bones from the effects of sudden premature menapause that my other medication is plunging me into, and it also reduces the chance of the cancer coming back by a further 2%. It's administered by IV, and this was the first canula I'd had since my final chemo last September. I thought my veins would have recovered, but no! It took 4 goes to find a vein, and it hurt so much. But now I've had it done, I don't have to have it again until January. The side effects are apparently 3-4 days of 'flu-like symptoms', which I dismissed and headed into work today on my bike. But then in the afternoon it hit me like a bus. The non-air-conditioned office and intense heat didn't help! (It was 34 degrees at my desk today!) But now I really feel whacked out, my bones are aching, my head is all clogged up and all I want to do is sleep. I nearly fell asleep on my cycle home! Eek. Fingers crossed I will feel better soon. I also have calcium and vitamin D tablets on prescription: 2 a day. Thank you NHS for being totes amazeballs.

Other things I've been dealing with lately, include going to the lymphedoema clinic, and being fitted for a lovely sleeve and glove to help combat my lymphedoema (swelling of the right arm and hand due to having fewer lymph nodes to drain my lumph fluid round my body). Unfortunately heat is a trigger so this weather is not helping.

Sexy

I've also seen a physio to find out why my right hip is so sore. He's given me some exercises to do and I'm going back next week. Fingers crossed we can find out what's wrong and sort it, as I want to be able to go hiking and walking again, as well as not wake up in the middle of the night in pain!

Last week I had my final Herceptin, yay! A year's worth done and dusted. That's fewer times I'll have to go into Bart's for injections.

I've also been referred by my GP to a sleep clinic, but that's not until September, to try to help me sleep better (I'm sleeping so badly at the moment). And I've also been doing some counselling with the psycho-oncology services at Bart's, which is really helping.

So back on track! And we head off on our big, relaxing holiday on 8 August: 3 weeks in Canada. Really looking forward to relaxing and seeing some of that beautiful country, as well as catching up with our relatives there.

Surgery results, Carmel 1: Cancer 0.

My surgery was 10 days ago, and today I had to go back into hospital to get my pathology results. These are the results from the lab where they have analysed the two lymph nodes they removed from my armpit, and the remainder of the lump they removed. And happily, it's all good news. There was no cancer in my lymph nodes, which means I don't need to have any further surgery, and the remaining lump was also clear, which means that the chemo had properly killed all the cancer in my breast. I'm so relieved and happy, this is a huge milestone on my treatment journey.

 

Sticking two fingers up at cancer!

My surgeon, Miss L___, removed my dressings, which I've had on since surgery, so it was the first time I've actually seen both of the wounds. They look incredible, she's done a fabulous job. My armpit wound is a small nick about 2cm long, under the armpit, barely noticeable. She very cleverly made the incision for the lump by cutting a crescent shape around my nipple, and then tunnelling in to get the lump. This means I'll have no visible scar in my cleavage, and once it heals, it will be practically invisible. There is a lot of bruising and swelling at the moment, but I already love my post-surgery body, and when I look at myself in the mirror, I see a strong, beautiful woman who has been through so much over the past few months, and I'm so proud of her for getting this far.

Today we also discussed the next steps, as my treatment isn't over yet! In a couple of weeks I will get measured up for radiotherapy: they'll do a CT scan and I will get two little tattoos on my chest so that they can properly line up the lasers, and then, as long as my wounds heal well, I should start radiotherapy about a week after that. I will have 19 sessions in total, every weekday for almost a month, and then I will be finished with what they call 'active treatment'. The radiotherapy is really belts and braces, to mop up any stray cancer cells and reduce the risk of the cancer coming back. The side effects are not as severe as chemotherapy, but most people say that the significant one is fatigue, which can last up to a couple of months after radiotherapy is finished. I'm preparing myself for another few weeks of having a minimal social life. Luckily the nights are drawing in and the temperature is getting wintry, so I'll just curl up at home with some good books, podcasts, movies and hearty food.

I have been given some exercises, which I'm diligently doing three times a day, to regain as much movement as possible in my right arm. At the moment it's quite difficult to lift my arm up over my head, and I'm still avoiding lifting anything heavy, but I'm doing well. Tanai took a week off work after my surgery and we mooched about at home, chilling out and resting. It's actually been quite lovely to rest and recuperate properly after surgery; I realised that I didn't properly rest through chemo and probably pushed myself a little too hard. I go back to work next Thursday so I'm making the most of my final rest days. 

My daily exercises

So, all being well, I should be done with active treatment by the end of the year. I'm looking forward to bidding 2017 farewell, to be honest, and we already have some fun things planned for 2018. I will continue having Herceptin injections every 3 weeks until July next year, and I have just received my first prescription of Tamoxifen, the tablet I'll be on for the next 10 years. I've decided I'm not going to start taking it until after radiotherapy, as I am not keen on having both side effects at once. Today the clinical oncologist also talked about giving me Zoladex injections every month for at least the next two years. This is because I'm pre-menopausal, and my cancer is fed by oestrogen. What do your ovaries do? Produce oestrogen! So Zoladex suppresses your ovaries to reduce the risk of the cancer returning. And along with that there is another injection they want to give me every 6 months to prevent the cancer returning in my bones. I've decided to take some time to research these other options before signing up, as I've heard they can also have some pretty nasty side effects. I want to be certain that their efficacy and the benefits I will receive from them is worth the potential impact on my quality of life. So more on here when I know what I've decided! Until then, I shall continue to be pretty happy with today's news and celebrate this weekend with friends at the Lewes bonfire.

Final pre-op prep

I'm heading in for my surgery tomorrow so just thought I'd update you on the final things that have happened this week. Since my pre-op check-up I have seen the cardio oncologist again, for the results of my various heart tests. She was very reassuring and said all the test results seem fine. She suspects I have what is called Ventricular Ectopy, where my heart decides to give an extra beat every now and again, for a short burst, which explains my chest pain and the fact that I'm feeling my heart beating quite aggressively. She said it's nothing to worry about in the short term, that I'm fine to proceed with surgery, but that if it's still happening in a couple of months I should head back in to see her. She did, however, point out that my blood results show I'm anaemic, so she has advised that I receive a blood transfusion after my surgery rather than simply being left to build my bloods back up on my own.

I also received a call this week from the clinic to say my bloods needed doing again, so it appears that they are not as good as they could be. The nurse told me my magnesium and potassium are low, or something like that (I didn't take notes) and she took three more vials from me to do further tests. Due to 6 months of sustained chemotherapy, my veins are not as good as they used to be, and have a tendency to collapse when someone tries to put a needle in them. She tried her hardest but had to use a vein that was quite deep, and now I have a huge bruise on my left arm! I asked the google what I could do about collapsed veins, thinking there might be some things I could do to help them regain their strength (such as drinking lots of water doing exercises etc) but all I unearthed were helpful websites urging me to stop doing drugs! It seems as though that's the main cause of collapsed veins, and the advice is all very admonishing, so I retreated. Anyway, hopefully they got what they needed at the hospital and my bloods are getting better.

Finally, this morning I had to go into the nuclear medicine department again so that they could inject me with some radioactivity. The nurse was fabulous and explained how it all works, before injecting it into my boob near the nipple. It only stung a little and now I'm back home. After the injection, she took a marker pen, circled the area she had injected and put a little arrow towards it with 'INJ' next to it! I suspect that is not the last time I will be written on with marker pen. Oh well, if it helps the surgeons I really don't mind. So tomorrow they will apparently use a Geiger counter to see where the radioactivity has gathered, and this will help them see where my primary lymph nodes are, to aid them in taking them out. It's all so fascinating.

At the nuclear medicine dept this morning. Far too early for Tanai!

On the way home, we stopped at St John's bakery and bought two donuts. They make delicious fresh donuts every day and fill them with different creams and custards. Tanai got one with honey and brandy cream, and I got one with a delicious spiced custard. This has become a bit of a tradition now, buying St John's donuts at each stage of my treatment. It's so lovely to have it to look forward to.

Today's yummy donuts

This weekend I also went to my first gig at the Roundhouse since the day before I received my prognosis back in March (we went to see Sampha and the very next day got all the test results). There was an all-day festival featuring some really funky music, including the Hot 8 Brass Band, who were great. I managed a whole glass of wine and we stayed out until 9pm! Crazy. After 6 months of being very boring and primarily staying home, it felt like a real treat.

I finally have a social life again

We also spent Sunday ferociously batch cooking, so that we have a freezer full of food in readiness. Although Tanai does love cooking, it's likely I will have mobility issues for a while in my right arm, so might not be able to cook for a while. Rather than have him cook every single night, I thought it would be nice to stock up on some yummy meals in our freezer. The flat still smells delicious!

Chef Cardona

We also did some DIY and installed a new ceiling light in the kitchen to brighten up a dark corner. We received a lesson from my dad over video whatsapp and then turned off the electric at the mains and wired in the light. A bit nervewracking but it worked!

Lovely new ceiling lamp

I have finally ditched the headscarves as I now have enough hair to look plausibly like another short-haired person, and I feel great. It's a little windy round my ears though, I wasn't prepared for the cold! But I'm enjoying how low-maintenance it is. Someone at work said 'big earrings and lippy' so I've taken that on board.

Rocking the short hair

I'll update you all after the op! Fingers crossed it all goes well.

Potential trial participation

A little update from me just before I head into my 7th chemo session on Wednesday. All's well, my follow-up chest x-ray was all clear, there seem to be no concerns from my ECG and I'm ready to go for the penultimate round. It feels good to be close to the end of chemo. I've been invited to participate in a clinical trial so I thought I'd share the information with you as it sounds really interesting. Basically, there were some studies carried out into the beneficial effect of taking aspirin in those who had heart disease, and some of the data suggested that aspirin appeared to reduce the number of people who developed cancer, and if people did develop cancer, it appeared to be less likely to spread. So a huge clinical trial has been set up to test these theories, comprised of people who have been treated for cancer of the stomach, prostate, bowel, oesophagus and breast. They are aiming to recruit 3,100 patients who have been treated for early stage breast cancer, which is why they have approached me.

The trial is called the Add-Aspirin trial, and has already been running for over a year. It's funded by Cancer Research UK, the UK Department of Health and the Medical Research Council Clinical Trials Unit at UCL (University College London). They wish to test the long-term effects on the potential of cancer returning of taking a dose of aspirin every day. I will first of all have to take part in a 'run-in' period where I take a low dose of aspirin every day for 8 weeks. If all is fine, I will proceed to the trial. One third of participants will receive a regular dose of aspirin, one third will receive a low dose of aspirin, and one third will receive a placebo. I will not know which strand I'm in. They want me to take a tablet every day for 5 years. I will receive regular check-ups, blood tests, mammograms and other tests, as well as a questionnaire each year, because aspirin has also been alleged to protect against age-related cognitive impairment. (Hilarious! Can it help me remember my keys every day?)

One of the things I've been considering recently is how I can 'give back' after I complete treatment. I feel really positive about the opportunity to participate in something which could make a real difference to cancer treatment in the future, and potentially help save people's lives. Although I will be unlikely to personally benefit from this trial, there's a good chance that the data gained from the trial will benefit people in future. Plus, samples of my blood and a sample from my cancer (when they get round to removing it!) will be donated for research, which is pretty cool. I also like that I get an 8-week run to check that my body would have no adverse effects from taking aspirin. Plus, it's aspirin! People have been taking this for years. It's not as though it's some new drug that has only been tested on mice. So I think it's a pretty good thing to do. I'll let you know if I get on the trial.

Half way through chemo

This week I had my fourth round of chemo, which means I'm officially half way through! Cue: celebratory bells, klaxons and all you can think of. It's kind of hard for me to get too excited as it's not over yet, and it's still an uphill battle, but it is definitely a good milestone.

At the half way mark they give you a scan to see how well the chemo is working, so today I popped back to St Bart's for another ultrasound. Although I'm not supposed to get the results immediately (they go to my oncologist, who discusses them at the weekly Multi-Disciplinary Meeting before my appointment with her) I cheekily asked the sonographer if she could let me have a peek at the screen, and if she was allowed to share the measurements with me. Luckily she obliged (I threw in the 'I'm going through so much crap with this chemo business, it would be good to know it's actually working' line) and it was good news. The tumour has shrunk by 60%, meaning it's less than half the size it originally was back in February. It's still there, but the chemo is definitely doing its job.

The news has given me a little resolve. Although chemo is really tough, it's working, and is nuking the cancer, so I need to persevere. I'm also moving onto a different drug regimen. My four rounds of AC are over with (bye bye to the 'red devil' Doxyrubicin) and my next four rounds are 'TPH', or Docetaxol, Herceptin and Pertuzumab. I've been researching these as they have different side effects, and Tanai and I will be purchasing some supplies to get me through these new drugs. For my next chemo session, I have to be in hospital for the full day, from 10am, as they need to keep me under observation for 6 hours following the administration of Herceptin, to check that I don't have an allergic reaction. The Docetaxol (or 'the tax') is the one I've heard lots about. It's the one that can make your fingernails fall off, and it makes your bones ache. I'm not looking forward to that one, but with today's news I will hopefully find some inner strength to keep going for the next four rounds.

My friend Dominic accompanied me to chemo this time, and I got a window seat in the ward, on what ended up being the hottest June day since 1976. We spent a lovely 5 hours putting the world to rights, and I am writing another blog post about some of the interesting things we discussed, around resilience and self-compassion. Dom works for a prostate cancer charity so really I was doing him a favour, allowing him to join me on a chemo ward for 'research' purposes. But joking aside, once again I count myself incredibly privileged to have the kinds of amazing friends who would do something such as accompany me to chemo. Again and again I am blown away by your generosity and compassion, and I know that's what continues to sustain me as this journey gets tougher and tougher.

Health update

Today I had my regular visit to the oncologist before next Wednesday's chemo, which is round #3. This is primarily to check in about how it all went last time and make sure I'm okay to keep going. My oncologist, Dr S___, was not there today so I saw someone else from her team, Dr H___, a male oncologist. He was very friendly and helpful. First of all I had to describe how things went last time and how I was feeling. I explained that I'm doing really well, very few major side effects, and I've got good energy levels at the moment and have been cycling into work this week. I did mention that I'd found it quite hard in the week following treatment but I'm feeling more prepared for the next round.

He then gave me a physical examination to see how the lump in my breast was faring. After the first chemo I noticed that it had become particularly hard and was very prominent, but after the second one it had softened again. Over the last few days I mentioned to Tanai that I was having problems locating it, and that I suspected it had been getting smaller. However, I hadn't wanted to get too excited about it. Well Dr H___ agreed with me, it was definitely smaller. His professional estimation is that it has shrunk to half the size, and is now only 1.5cm! This is great news. Of course we won't know for sure until the scan after 2 more rounds of chemo, but this has definitely made me feel better about going in for round #3 next week. I feel as though I'm not on a treadmill, but I'm actually making some progress, and that even though the chemo makes me feel absolutely shit, at least I can see now that it's actually working.

Also, he had my CT scan results. I had the scan almost a month ago, but because of the recent virus infecting the NHS' computers, they could not access the results before today. Happily, the scans are all clear, so the cancer has not spread to my lungs, ovaries or other organs. This is definitely reason to celebrate.

Yesterday my friend Jana drove us both to IKEA to pick up some things for our homes. She needed some new shelves and I wanted to buy loads of plants and plantpots, and create a lovely indoor garden in our flat. We are still living in a relatively bare apartment as my furniture is on its way from Australia on a ship, but I wanted to have some greenery around me as I'm spending so much more time at home than I usually do, and I thought it would make me feel healthier and happier. I have missed being out in the countryside (I usually do a lot of weekend hiking but my energy levels are not allowing that at the moment), so I thought I'd bring some greenery inside. I'm very pleased with my first steps at building an indoor garden, and I'm inviting people to bring us clippings of their own plants to add to it! It all started with some lovely plants from Caroline, Elizabeth and Kim, and now I'm expanding my collection. Let's hope I have at least some of my grandma's green fingers.

My plant haul

Celebrating today's results with some champers!

Once again, while the NHS is taking very good care of my physical health, I'm having to look after my mental health myself. I truly believe that this is such an important part of my treatment and recovery, and both the physical and the psychological go hand in hand. I have been trying to do a small amount of yoga practice each day (when I have enough energy) and 20 minutes of mindfulness meditation. This is so important in helping me to focus, to sleep, and to ensure I retain some clarity with all these new thoughts running through my head. Last weekend I read a book called 'Post-Traumatic Growth', which is about ensuring that trauma brings about positivity in one's life. It examined the key elements of post-traumatic stress and then outlined some frameworks and mechanisms for dealing with going through a traumatic time, and remaining resilient and strong, and coming out of it with more wisdom, grace and learnings, and ultimately with positivity rather than PTSD. I have also been ensuring that I go for long walks when I have the energy (long walks are so good for my mental health!) and practicing gratitude: really considering the good things in my life and the things for which I'm grateful.

Tanai and I laugh a lot, there is so much to find funny in this world, and last weekend we had a long chat about the holidays we'd like to have after my treatment is finished, and our dreams for the future. It really feels good to have some things to look forward to and focus on during treatment. It reminds me of one of my favourite Walt Whitman poems:

No turning back! O youth, a weary road
Spreads out before you! Hidden grief lurks there,
And burning fires of vice lie smouldering there,
And disappointment's clutching fangs wait there;
But far ahead, up in the height of heaven,
Glitters a star. O, let thy constant gaze
Be fixed upon that star; step not away,
But gazing on the brightness of the guide,
Press forward to the end and falter not!

Cx

Happy bones

Today I had my pre-chemo catch up with my oncologist, Dr S___, as my next session is on Monday. She wanted to know how I found things the first time around, so I referred to my symptom diary and asked her some of the questions I'd been saving up. She is really happy with how things are going and I'm ready for round two! I shall enjoy my last weekend of relatively high energy levels before being whacked back down to the ground on Monday. She also had the results of my bone scan, and happily they have come back clear, so the cancer has not spread to my bones. Unfortunately, however, she did not have the results of my CT scan, so I have to wait a little longer for those. St Bart's has had a complete and utter computer system failure! Their computers have been down for 10 days and everything is being handwritten at the moment, causing quite a backlog. It's astonishing how such a large and important hospital can be offline for such a long time. They could learn a thing or two about disaster recovery from our Head of Data and Business Technology at work. She said that patients have been having their chemo cancelled and wards are running very behind with everything. I hope it doesn't affect my session on Monday. Hopefully I will get my CT results next time I see her. In the meantime I'm happy with my cancer-free bones.

After visiting my oncologist, I also had to have more blood taken, which will be tested and sent to the chemo ward in advance of Monday. This will happen for each round of my treatment, as they have to check all the different levels in my blood to make sure they have recovered enough from the last round for me to be able to take some more. As long as I can get up off the ground before the referee counts down from 10-1, I can get back in the ring. Given that my current chemo end-date is mid-September, which feels like an age away, I'm hoping nothing delays any stage of my treatment. At least I'm slowly getting used to needles, and finding good breathing methods to ensure I don't faint again.

Other than that, the side effects have faded somewhat since my first session. My hair, which we had shaved to about 3mm, has continued to fall out, although it's much less distressing when it's just tiny little stubble. Each morning in the shower I rub my head with a facecloth and loads of little hairs come off onto the cloth. I'd say about 85% of it has gone now, and there are just some stubborn ones that are clinging on. Hilariously, the cowlick at the front is still there, a spiky patch of stubble, just as unruly as it was when it hid beneath my fringe. It sticks out of the scarves I'm wearing on my head, prickly to the touch, and I wouldn't be surprised if it clung on to the bitter end. The nausea has completely gone, and my tastebuds and food cravings are almost back to normal, but I'm still quite fatigued, and I'm not sleeping very well. Dr S___ isn't going to give me anything to help me sleep just yet, she's encouraging me to try to drink as much as I can in the mornings and ease off towards the evenings, in the hope that I won't need to get up in the night to pee. We shall see. I'm still incredibly dehydrated all the time, drinking pints and pints of water all day. I've also got lots of little tubes of hand cream (many of them gifts from you lovely people, thank you!) that are strategically placed all over the house, in every bag I own, in my desk drawer at work... I'm never more than 2 paces away from some handcream! I'm also moisturising my almost-bald head. My scalp is going to be treated so well while it's exposed, by the time my hair starts growing back it will be in such wonderful condition.

My mum is coming down to London on Monday, to look after me in my first few days after the next chemo, and give Tanai a bit of a break. This is great timing, as he has disappeared into a bit of a mental vortex: he made a huge scientific discovery a few days ago and is so excited about it, he's frantically trying to write up his findings and get them published. (He did try to explain it to me, but it went completely over my head.) He's extremely distracted at the moment which is fine when I am doing well, but it will be good to have mum around next week to make sure I'm okay!

Not much more to report. I'll check in again after treatment and let you know how I get on.